“Want me to leave you my kaleidoscope?”
“Yeah. Lemme see.” To buy some time I press it to my eye and feign interest, not really seeing the magic at all. All I can think of is the feeling of him in Connecticut, knowing it’s not just school he’s going back for.
“I hope I’m not forgetting anything. Call and let me know if I do. Okay?”
I nod and turn to tell him he’s forgetting his favorite tired cowboy boots beneath the bookshelf. But he’s looking at his phone, smiling at something that I am no part of. Something that is no doubt coaxing him out my door. I lift the kaleidoscope to the other eye, bolstered by the thought that I will never confess to having them when he calls me, panicked, asking if I’ve seen them.